


The Brat

by RussetMeng



Category: Mamamoo
Genre: Established Relationship, choose whoever gets to be the pairing, it's kinky
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:28:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21604537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RussetMeng/pseuds/RussetMeng
Summary: It's a kinky story. Sort of.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	1. Ice Cream Date

It starts pretty innocently.

I steal a bit of her ice cream.

She retaliates by scooping up some of mine and flinging it to my face.

The ice cream lands right on my nose – a cute dollop of vanilla right at the tip.

She laughs in surprise and delight, but I don’t share her sentiment – I _hate_ having stuff on my face.

I glare at her and silently gesture for her to wipe my nose clean.

It’s a simple command, really – I don’t even need to verbalize it for her to understand and we are not exactly in a place where she can freely exhibit her brattiness as per usual (we _are_ on a date in a public place if you must know).

I expect her to be a good girl and obediently wipe the goddamn ice cream off of my nose (it’s so freaking _cold_!).

Well, she proves me wrong.

At first, she looks like she’s about to obey my command – she gives me her signature puppy look, her teeth gnawing on her bottom lip in a gesture of guilt. Then, that guilt is replaced by mischievousness – it’s such a quick transition, completely catching me off guard; I barely have any time to brace myself for what she does next.

She swipes the ice cream from my nose with her forefinger and then slowly, painfully slowly, brings said finger into her mouth, licking it clean in a slow and deliberate manner without taking her eyes off of me. That look in her eyes – challenging and seductive at the same time – always melts my insides while also turns me on.

I swallow hard, close my eyes and mutter for her to wait _one_ second before turning around and take a long, deep breath, shaking off the steaming thoughts that has started playing in my head.

When I am calm again, I turn to face her and pretend that she has not affected me; I even flash her a smug smile to emphasis it.

But she also has a smile on her face – no, a _smirk_ – as if she already knows how affected I was by her actions. _Of course_ she knows – she knows me better than I know myself.

She pulls her clean finger out with a decisive pop and bats her eyelashes at me. “Something wrong?” she asks in that fake innocent voice of hers as her fingers grazemy bare arm, sending an electric shock down to my core.

I clench my jaw and force myself to maintain the smile on my face while I try to convey with my eyes what’s going to happen to her once we are home and out of public’s eye. I unconsciously lick my lips – I can already see the chains and whips in my head; hear her moans and whimpers for more ringing in my ears.

She is either oblivious of my silent warning or pretending to ignore it (because she already _knows_ what’s going to happen to her if she doesn’t stop). Either way, her smirk widens and there is that challenging look in her eyes again as she walks in front of me, sashaying her hips in that seductive way she knows gets me all bothered on the inside.

I close my eyes and clench my jaw, balling my hands into tight fists as the knot in my stomach tightened and I feel the trembling need to take her then and there course through my veins. I don’t know how long I could fight this urge when the image of her, tied to our bed while looking up at me with those dark, defiant eyes, keeps playing in my head.

If she keeps this up, we wouldn’t be able to finish this date. _A_ _gain_. I would probably whisk her home in a few minutes just to teach her a lesson. _Again_.

But no, not this time.

I am determine to hold out as long as I can and see this date through until the end. We owe each other at least that.

I sigh again.

It’s going to be a long, long day.


	2. Laundry Day

It’s laundry day.

I like doing laundry; I enjoy the clean, fresh and fragrant smell that comes from freshly-washed clothes. I also like folding and ironing them – it helps me focus and think when nothing else could.

But I _hate_ cooking – it’s a messy activity and cleaning up after all that is a pain.

So, we divided the tasks between us – I do the laundry and she cooks. It has worked well so far, except on those days when she suddenly feels whimsical and bratty.

This is one of those days.

_“Baby, when are you coming back? I miss you already.”_

My lips twitch, amused by her mood swing (she was fine when I left her an hour ago), but I have to stay strong against her aegyo attacks. “I haven’t dried the clothes yet,” I cradle the phone between my ear and my shoulder as I transfer the washed clothes into the dryer, “it’ll take another thirty minutes or so. Patience, okay?”

_“But I miss you~”_

“Honey, I haven’t been gone that long,” I close the dryer door and set it to thirty minutes before pressing start, “are you finished with dinner?”

_“Yes. That’s why I’m calling you. I’m bored and the food’s getting cold.”_

I can almost see her adorable pout in her sulky tone. “What did you make?” I ask, indulging her while I wait for the dryer to finish.

_“…ramen.”_

I bite back a laugh. “Ramen, huh?” I say, amused, “what’s the occasion?”

 _“I’m craving for some,”_ she replies in a defensive tone, _“got a problem with that?”_

“None,” I reply, grinning to myself while thinking that she’s cute like this, “I guess it makes sense to eat the ramen before it gets soggy, right?”

 _“Yes!”_ her voice rises in her excitement and I can almost see her jump up and down in delight, _“yes, it makes_ perfect _sense to eat it now. Right now.”_

I glance at the dryer. “I guess I can come back once the dryer is done...”

_“Yes! That’s what I’ve been telling you, baby. Now come back and eat with me.”_

“Yes, honey. I’ll be there in a second.”

I smile as I end the call and head for the door.

It’s thoroughly amusing to me each time she does this – our laundry room is right next to our kitchen, but she acts like I’ve gone to Mars. It’s silly, yes, but she easily gets lonely and I always make sure to bring my phone with me even if I’m just going to fetch the mail. I don’t mind it; I get lonely too when she’s not with me.

When I open the laundry room door, she is already waiting for me, a bright smile on her face.

“Took you long enough,” she pouts as she takes my hand and pulls me towards the dining table where two steaming bowls of ramen are waiting for us, “I’m _starving_.”

I chuckle at that and sit at my designated place across from her.

She is undeniably bratty, but she is also thoughtful. She could have just drag me back in if she wanted to, but she likes it when I come to her on my own accord – freewill and all that – and I love her for it.

“I love you.”

She looks at me with a quizzical smile. “What?”

“I love you,” I repeat.

“But it’s just ramen…”

I laugh, almost choking on the soup and noodles. “Yah! It’s not about the _ramen_ ,” I smile wide as my chest swells with affection for this woman in front of me, “I just want to tell you that I love you.”

She rolls her eyes, but her mouth curls slightly. “You’re such a greaseball,” she mutters, poking her food with her chopsticks as a beautiful blush colours her cheeks, “but I love you too.”

We clean up together after we finished and then head to the laundry room hand-in-hand to check on the dryer. Thankfully, it’s done and all I have to do is take them out, fold them and I will be done for the day.

“Baby, do you know what happens in a laundry room?” she asks as she watch me load the dried clothes into the laundry bag.

“I’m pretty sure _this_ is what happens,” I lift the laundry bag up and cock an eyebrow at her, “is something else supposed to happen?”

She walks over to me and slides her hands across my chest before circling them around my neck. There is a twinkle of mischief in her dark eyes as she slowly and deliberately moist her bottom lip with her tongue, knowing full well that my gaze cannot resist following that motion.

Then, she leans in and whispers, “Sexy time happens.”

I close my eyes and shake my head, body rigid and fists clench tight. “Nope. No no no no. _No_. Not here. Not _ever_.”

“But _baby_ -”

“No, honey. I won’t be able to do laundry again if we have sex here.”

“Hm?” she cocks her head to one side, her lips curling up into a smirk as if she had me just where she wants me (damn her, she really did), “and why is that?”

I glare at her, but my hands are already around her hips, pulling her close. “You _know_ why,” I growl, the knots in my stomach are already tightening with anticipation and desire, “I won’t be able to stop thinking about you and thinking about _wanting_ to have you and, and-”

“ _Exactly_ ,” she murmurs before capturing my bottom lip with her teeth, lightly sucking on it while her gaze remains lock with mine, “your thoughts should be on me and _only_ me.”

I grunted and kiss her properly and thoroughly until we are both breathless. “My thoughts are _always_ full of you,” I breathe against her lips, “so full, sometimes I don’t have space for anything else.”

“Good,” she moans as I trail wet kisses down her jaw and neck, “I’m the same, baby. I’m so full of you, but I still want you to fill me up. Over and over again.”

_Oh fuck._

I lift her up and set her on a nearby laundry table, her arms and legs opening up automatically as if to invite me into her embrace, the look in her eyes telling me, no _begging_ , me to ravish her.

Seriously, how is _anyone_ supposed to resist _that_?

Suffice to say, laundry day is never going to be the same anymore.


	3. Cuffed

I wake up with a throbbing headache and the realization that my right hand is cuffed to the head of the bed.

It takes me a while to register what is happening, but I already know who would have done this to me. It is honestly not uncommon for us to use handcuffs in the bedroom, but it is uncommon for her to do this while I am asleep.

_Did I do something to upset her?_

Last night, I had attended an office party and ended up half-drunk by the time I left. Thankfully, my colleague was generous enough to drive me home (I should remember to thank her later). When I arrived home, she was already asleep. I changed out of my work clothes and into my pajamas, washed up and fell asleep immediately when I hit the bed. That was it. I don’t remember doing anything else.

_Strange…_

It’s not like her to leave me here, cuffed and alone, without an explanation.

I look around helplessly.

The spot beside me is empty – she must have woken up and gone somewhere; I don’t hear any sounds indicating that she is home.

That leaves me with a dilemma: how the fuck am I supposed to get out of this cuff?

Then, I glance at the side table on my left.

There is a glass of water, aspirins and also my phone on it – all within my reach, which I assume is what she intended. But alas, there is no sign of the handcuff key.

My head starts to throb again and I quickly grab the aspirins, pop them into my mouth and wash them down with the water. The headache eases a bit and I reach for the side table again, grab my phone and call her number.

The moment I hear her voice, I say as calmly as I could, “Honey, where are you?”

_“Somewhere~ out there~”_

I clench my jaw. She is being bratty at the most inopportune time, but I have to hold back or she would never let me go. “Honey, come home and uncuff me. _Now_.”

She stops humming. _“And why should I?”_ she asks in a rigid tone.

I frown, confused. She’s not being herself and that worries me a little. “What do you mean ‘why’?”

She lets out an impatient sigh. _“Do you even remember anything from last night?”_

I scratch my head and try to recall again. But I really don’t remember what I did – other than coming home half-drunk, covered in my colleague’s perf- _oh shit._

“Honey,” my voice is gentler and calmer now, after knowing what’s the cause of all this, “she is just my colleague who was generous enough to drive my drunk ass home. Home to _you_. Nothing happened. Okay?”

_“…really?”_

“Yes. I’ll even introduce her to you when we meet. Deal?”

She giggles into the phone. _“Deal!”_

I let out a relieved sigh, glad that everything is good again between us now. “Will you please uncuff me now?”

 _“Hmmm,”_ she drawls out the word, her voice going deep in that tone that she always uses to tease and taunt me, _“are you sure you’ve apologized enough?”_

I close my eyes and swallow hard, my heart thumping wildly in my chest while my cuffed hand twitches with the need to touch her. I am always taken aback of how much her voice affects me; how much I get turned on by it. I love the way the way her voice vibrates in my ear and then throughout my whole body. If she is here and whispers directly into my ear, there is no doubt that I will be instantaneously drenched.

“Wh-what…” I whisper as I try to play along, even though I am already barely able to contain the excitement and anticipation of where this is going, “…what else do you want?”

_“I want you to beg.”_

My nipples harden at the word “beg” and I clamp my teeth on my bottom lip to prevent a whine from escaping. This is one of the rare times when she decides to take control and I actually don’t mind it at all – she is so damn hot when she tops.

“ _Please_ ,” I breathe into the phone, my right hand tugging wildly at the restraint, not even caring that I am half-whimpering, half-begging right now, “I need you. I need to touch you. I need you to touch me. So _please_ …”

I can almost see her smirking as she says, _“You know that you can just end this call and touch yourself, right? It’s that easy, baby.”_

Hearing her words, I am instantly on the verge of panic, even though I know she doesn’t mean it. Probably. “What? _No_!”

I can imagine how wide she is smirking right now. _“Oh? Why not, baby?”_

She _knows_ why, but she wants me to say it. Fuck. I love it when she gets like this.

I took a deep breath and close my eyes, conjuring the image of her in my mind – her devilish smirk and her expectant stare. She might also have been licking her lips, slowly and deliberately, making me wish that that tongue is licking me instead. I let out a whimper as I feel a pool of wetness in between my thighs and I know that as soon as she touches me _there_ , I will not last long.

“I need your voice,” I whimper, almost in tears from _needing_ her, “you’re the only one who can make a complete mess of me with just your voice,” I soften my voice as I add, “I’m sorry that I came home drunk and covered in another woman’s perfume, but no one can make me this fucking wet with just their voice. It’s just you, honey, and it will always be just you.”

She chuckles into the phone, probably more than satisfied with my answer, and I _swear_ I almost came just from her laugh. I unconsciously let out a whine as my hips thrust up into the air, desperate for the release that I am being denied from.

 _“Oh right. I’m sorry, baby,”_ she says as if she finally realizes I am still there, _waiting_ for her, _“I’ll be there soon. Just wait a bit more.”_

She ends the call and I am left alone with a pool of my arousal in between my legs, my left hand itching to just finish the job. But I know how upset she will be if she finds me masturbating on my own, so I hold back; I also know how amazing it would be to come from her mouth and the anticipation makes it easier to be patient.

Not a moment after the call ended, she appears at the bedroom door with a smile on her face.

I just stare at her, confused. “Where were you?”

“In the kitchen,” she moves to stand at the foot of the bed, looking down at me with dark, lustful eyes while her teeth chew on her cherry red lips, “eating breakfast.”

My lust-filled head cannot process this betrayal. “What…?”

“But my breakfast is ruined now,” she continues, her eyes meeting mine and I am aroused again because I can see the hunger in those dark orbs and that hunger is for _me_ , “because I got hungry for something else…”

I let out a small gasp when she reaches down and tugs my pajama pants off, revealing my drenched panties. Her intense gaze makes me even more aroused and her tongue darting out to lick her lips makes me whimper with want. Her eyes flickered to mine and her mouth curls into that devilish smirk of hers.

_Beg._

She mouths, her eyes narrowing as she slowly crawls up to where I really, _really_ want her.

There is no shame in begging or whimpering when I know _exactly_ what I’ll get from her. “P-Please…”

She smiles, satisfied, and gently parts my legs until she can see the absolute mess that I have become because of _her_.

“Oh _baby_ …” she licks her lips as she lowers her head near my sex, her dark eyes never leaving mine, “…you are _so_ ready for me, aren’t you?”

I nod my head vigorously, my heart in my throat as the anticipation builds up in my whole body. I can tell that she wants to tease me more, but I _plead_ with her using my eyes because, _fuck_ , I can’t take it anymore.

She smirks. “Thanks for the meal, baby.”

Finally, _finally_ , I feel her mouth on me and I throw my head back in delight, hips thrusting to meet every stroke of her tongue. Then, her lips found my clit and, with just one suck, I came. _Hard_. My body quakes with the force of my release and my mind momentarily goes blank until I come down from my euphoria.

The sound of someone sobbing pulls me out of my trance and I look around for the source of it. I realize that the comforter is now up to my chest and I am dry in between my legs – she had thoughtfully clean and cover me; as always.

Then, I look over to my right. She is sitting next to me, cradling my right arm, now uncuffed and very sore, while fervently peppering the reddish marks on my wrist with soft kisses.

“Hey…” my voice is hoarse but loud enough to grab her attention, “…why are you crying?”

“B-Because I hurt you,” she wipes her tears away with the heel of her palm, but they keep rolling down despite her efforts, “I-I didn’t mean to…”

“You didn’t hurt me,” I cup her cheek with my left hand and give her a reassuring smile, “it’s a bit sore, yes, but I had it coming. I upset you, so this is my punishment.”

“You came home reeking of another woman,” she sniffs, her eyes cast down while her fingers clutch at the front of my pajama, her mouth forming a little pout, “I _hated_ it. I couldn’t sleep. Then, I found the cuffs and, and…”

She trails off, but I already know what happened next – the soreness in my whole body is a pleasant reminder of it.

“I’m sorry, honey,” I whisper and kiss her pouty lips, “I was in the wrong. Forgive me?”

She looks at me for a moment and then bites her bottom lip. “On one condition.”

I frown. “What is it?”

She smiles shyly and takes my left hand, guiding it in between her legs. My eyes widen as I cup her womanhood, realizing that she is soaking wet through her panties. Knowing how aroused she is while she waits for me to come down from my high makes me feel guilty and so turned on at the same time.

“Baby,” she breathes, her voice low and seductive, her eyes darkening with lust as she wraps her arms around my neck, her lips hovering inches over mine, “I’ll forgive you if you take care of me…”

I swallow, my eyes glued to her mouth while my left hand remain stuck in between her thighs. “Um, m-my right hand,” I mumble, my mind going haywire with the moist feeling on my palm and her warm breath on my face, “is out of c-commission right now…”

She smirks. “I believe you can make use of _this_ ,” she takes my bottom lip in her mouth, gently tugging at it while gazing deep into my eyes, “very effectively, yes?”

I let out a low growl in response and devour her lips, swallowing her giggles in the process. I gently lay her down, covering her body with mine, and slowly kiss my way down until I am between her legs, facing her slickened core.

“Make me come, baby,” she whimpers as she parts her legs further to welcome me.

And that is exactly what I did.


End file.
